A Day With SuperGilligan
by TereseLucy384
Summary: In an effort to explore his relationship with MaryAnn, Gilligan asks her on a picnic.  Typical MAG adventure - turned into a more romantic encounter . . .
1. A Day With SuperGilligan

_A/N - I have decided to add another chapter to this story. In honor of my buddy's birthday ;) I wrote _A Night with Super-Gilligan_. I changed the rating to "M" as it . . . well . . . the story mandated it. If you don't like "M" ratings, feel free to not read . . . but if you read it . . . and you like it . . . let me know :D_**  
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_Happy Birthday, Teebs ;D Hope you enjoy the addition!  
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**CHAPTER 1**

**A DAY WITH SUPER-GILLIGAN**

Gilligan strolled through the jungle on his morning rounds. He had delivered fresh water to the water trough; he had collected firewood for MaryAnn to cook with; and now, he was collecting fruit to feed everyone for the day.

He approached a coconut tree and tilted his head way back to see how many nuts were up there. His hope was that if he brought back enough of them, it might just enter MaryAnn's mind to bake him a pie. He set his collection basket down, wrapped his feet around the trunk and started to shimmy up the tree.

As he climbed, he reflected back at how he had to teach himself to get up to the nuts at the top. This accomplishment was something he was quite proud of. Sometimes, he felt that his abilities to provide for the Skipper and the passengers of the Minnow – all the fruit and seafood he brought back - were overlooked by the others . . . taken for granted.

Not MaryAnn though. She always thanked him, and complimented him when he brought provisions back to the clearing. That was one of the things he liked about her. He used to feel invisible around people. But she sees him. Not only that, she smiles at him.

And lately, these last few weeks, she's been kissing him, too . . . or holding his hand. Nothing huge, just a peck on the cheek here, a hug there . . . just enough to let him know that he's special to her. Everyone said that she liked him. He knew that she did. He liked her, too; and he knew that she knew it. She figured that out a few weeks ago, when he almost lost her over the cliff. He kissed her that day – right in front of everybody.

He got to the top of the coconut tree and pulled out his machete. While he held his position with one hand, he swung with the other, sending 10 coconuts down, one at a time. Then he put his machete back in his sash and shimmied on down at a good clip. He used to come down slowly, carefully; but lately, he's been working on getting faster at it. He liked feeling just a little bit reckless – not too much, though – just a little.

Gilligan came strolling nonchalantly into the clearing. He had his machete in his hand and he had been whacking the branches as he walked down the path. Not that it needed clearing, he just felt like whacking.

He laid the machete and his collection basket on the table, just as MaryAnn came out of her hut. He smiled at her.

"Wow," she said. "You've been busy. Would you like me to help you get some firewood?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, I got some already. It's by your oven." He smiled proudly.

"Oh, wonderful. How about the water. I can walk down to the stream with you."

"Nope, did that too." Now his smile was getting a little smug.

MaryAnn laughed. "Gilligan, really. What would we do without you?" And she started to peek through the fruit and plan breakfast. "You've got a nice variety here. It'll make a wonderful fruit salad for breakfast."

Gilligan pushed the basket over a little and sat up on the table. He was thinking that, maybe, if he scooted over just a little more . . . maybe . . . she might kiss him. He wasn't quite brave enough to make the first move; but if she did, he wouldn't mind.

"Hey, MaryAnn," he said, as he scooted just a little closer, sending a mango rolling.

"Yes," she answered, reaching to grab the mango before it went over the edge.

"MaryAnn, will you . . ."

At that point, Professor approached the table carrying some of his lab equipment. "Oh, Gilligan, I'm glad you're here. Have you seen my funnel – the small one? It's missing."

"I think Mr. Howell has it. He was spiking the pineapple juice in his little flask last night," Gilligan answered, giggling.

"Thanks," answered Professor, and he hurried off towards the Howell's hut.

MaryAnn looked back at Gilligan. "Will I, what?" she asked, with her huge eyes batting at him.

"Well, I was just going to ask you . . ."

"Gilligan," Skipper yelled from his hut.

"Yeah, Skipper," he yelled back, huffing just a little impatiently.

Skipper poked his head out the doorway. "Little Buddy, I want you to collect some palm fronds after breakfast. We've got some repair work to do this afternoon."

"Sure, Skipper." He sighed.

He looked back at MaryAnn. Then he looked around to see if anyone was walking towards them, or looked in any way like they were going to interrupt him again. She giggled and bit her lip.

"Yes, Gilligan?"

"MaryAnn, I was just wondering if . . . "

"MaryAnn," Ginger said, running up from the girls' hut. Gilligan's shoulders slumped. "I have GOT to talk to you." Ginger continued. "You're not going to believe this." And she pulled MaryAnn by the arm back towards the girls' hut, whispering frantically.

MaryAnn looked back at Gilligan with apologetic eyes. He shrugged. He was used to it. Ginger was always being dramatic. She probably walked by Professor and flirted with him, and he said "hi" to her . . . or something equally silly. Girls always went nuts over silly stuff, like that.

While he waited, he put the fruit back into the basket and motioned to MaryAnn that he was carrying it back to her work-table by the cooking area. She nodded at him over Ginger's shoulder.

He got to her work-table and picked out some of the fruit. Then he got a couple of knives and a bowl and started to make a fruit salad.

A couple of minutes later, MaryAnn escaped Ginger's clutches and came back to the cooking area. She smiled when she saw Gilligan already cutting up fruit. He looked up at her and smiled back. Then he handed her a papaya and one of the knives.

"What were you going to ask me, Gilligan? I think it's safe now." She giggled.

"I was just going to ask you if you'd go on a picnic with me for lunch?" he asked, bashfully.

"That's a lovely idea. But won't you have to help Skipper with the hut repairs this afternoon, though?" she asked.

"I don't think so. He usually just has me collect the palm fronds, then he and Professor do the repairs. I tend to mess up that part." He shrugged.

"Well, then, it's a date," she said, and she stood on her toes and kissed the tip of his nose.

He grinned . . . and blushed . . . and his heart was pounding out of his chest.

They didn't talk anymore, while he finished making the fruit salad. As he put it all in the large bowl, MaryAnn whipped up a platter of pancakes. They carried the breakfast to the table together. Everyone else was starting to gather.

Gilligan could not stop smiling. He really didn't even realize that he was smiling, until Skipper started looking at him funny. "What," he giggled.

"Why are you smiling?" Skipper asked.

"I'm not smiling," Gilligan said, smiling.

MaryAnn hid her face behind her napkin and tried not to laugh. Ginger looked at her from across the table and winked.

Mr. and Mrs. Howell glanced at Gilligan, then at each other. Mrs. Howell was smiling, demurely.

Skipper, shaking his head, glanced up at Professor, who smirked and then glanced at Ginger.

Gilligan just sat there, eating his breakfast, smiling widely throughout breakfast. Every few minutes, someone would ask him a question, and he would just giggle in response.

MaryAnn went back and forth between laughing and blushing. She was well aware that everyone at the table (except, maybe, Gilligan) knew that she was the reason for his strange behavior.

Finally, everyone had finished eating, and started heading out to whatever little island adventure they had planned for the day. Gilligan tied on his machete sash again, and went into the supply hut to get the wheelbarrow to put the palm fronds in. Skipper followed him in, watching to make sure that MaryAnn went in the opposite direction towards the water barrel to do dishes.

"All right, Gilligan. What's going on with you?" he demanded.

"What?" Gilligan asked. "Can't a guy be in a good mood?"

"You're not just in a good mood. You're downright giddy."

Gilligan giggled again.

"See," said Skipper. "There you go again."

"I'm just happy, Skipper. MaryAnn said she'd go on a picnic with me, and I'm just happy, that's all." And he pushed the wheelbarrow out the door, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be back in a little while with your palm fronds."

After doing the morning dishes, MaryAnn and Ginger went for a mud-bath for an hour. Ginger was torn between wanting to interrogate MaryAnn on Gilligan's state at breakfast, and re-living the brief conversation she had had with Professor earlier that morning. As she had already told MaryAnn all about the conversation with Professor, she decided to grill her about Gilligan.

"So," Ginger said slyly, with a sexy grin. "What exactly did _you_ do to make Gilligan so giggly at the table this morning?"

"Oh Ginger, really." MaryAnn said, somewhat exasperated. "I just agreed to go on a picnic with him . . . and kissed him on the nose," she added with a giggle. "He was just in a good mood, I guess."

"I'll say," added Ginger. "What do you think his plans are for that picnic?" she asked with a wink.

"GINGER," MaryAnn admonished. "You know perfectly well what a gentleman Gilligan is. He doesn't have any diabolical plans." Although secretly, she wondered what would happen if _she_ had diabolical plans. She smiled to herself as she closed her eyes and indulged in a little picnic fantasy.

An hour later, Ginger had talked out all the possible scenarios that could take place on the picnic, and MaryAnn was growing increasingly nervous about this picnic. Not that she thought Gilligan would try anything; more that if anything _did_ happen, Ginger would know it the minute MaryAnn walked back into the hut.

MaryAnn pulled herself out of the mud hole. "I'm going to go rinse off now and fix some lunch for my picnic, Ginger. I'll talk to you later, 'kay."

"Damn right, you will," Ginger said with authority. Both girls laughed.

MaryAnn rinsed off at the waterfall, then wrapped a towel around herself and walked back to her hut to get dressed for lunch. She decided to wear that cute little, light blue dress with matching kerchief. She brushed her hair out and pulled it into a ponytail.

When she was dressed, she went to her cooking area to put together some food for her and Gilligan's picnic. Just as she was coming into the center of the clearing with her picnic basket and a blanket to sit on, Gilligan came into the clearing pushing a full wheelbarrow.

"Hi," she called. "Will you be ready soon?"

He took one look at her and gulped. "Uh, yeah, I just gotta tell Skipper that the palm fronds are out here." _Wow_, he thought, as he went to find Skipper, _she sure looks great_.

He found Skipper and Professor together in the supply hut, getting some tools together. "Hey, I'm back with the palm fronds," Gilligan said.

"Okay, thanks, Gilligan," said Skipper. "Are you heading off with MaryAnn, then?" he asked, with a wink.

"Yes, sir," Gilligan answered, blushing. He backed out of the supply hut and went to join MaryAnn.

"Want me to carry some stuff?" he asked, as he took the checkered blanket from her. Then he looked at the blanket, unfolded it, and glancing at MaryAnn with a grin, he threw the blanket over his shoulders and tied it around his neck – much like a Superhero cape.

"Fear not, fair maiden," he said with his hands on his hips and using a deep voice. "I'll protect you." Then he pulled out his machete and attacked a bush behind her. "Take that, you fiend," he yelled.

"My hero," MaryAnn said, shaking her head and laughing. She could see that she was in for an afternoon of adventure.

Gilligan asked MaryAnn where she would like to picnic, and she chose the hidden ledge that he occasionally used for a hide-out. The view was spectacular, and it was a beautiful spot to spread out a blanket . . . _not to mention, secluded_, she thought to herself.

As they traipsed through the jungle, Super-Gilligan kept MaryAnn entertained by fighting off fearsome foes - such as the gangsters, Fat Frankie and Tuxedo Tom, and the pirates, Peg-Leg Pete and Buccaneer Brutus. When Gladys, the chimp, and her baby came tromping towards them, Super-Gilligan _flew _down the trail with his machete swinging wildly, shouting over his shoulder, "Fair Maiden, hide, quickly – it's a horde of brain-eating zombiefied chimpanzees." MaryAnn laughed out loud at Gladys' outrage as she scooped up the baby and ran back into the deep jungle.

By the time they got to their hidden ledge, MaryAnn was exhausted by the adventure and her stomach hurt from laughing. One of her favorite things about these outings with Gilligan was his never-ending ability to make her laugh. Two other favorite things of hers were his thick eyelashes and his huge dimples.

They hugged the wall and walked the narrow passage out to the ledge. This part always made MaryAnn just a little nervous; but then, when they broke out onto the ledge, the view was so amazing that she immediately forgot that she ha to walk back that way again to leave.

She reached up and untied the blanket from Gilligan's neck, and ran her hands through his hair a little, as she did. A shiver ran down his spine, and he gulped.

She spread the blanket with a flourish, and they quickly had to sit on it, when a gust of wind hit them. Gilligan sat on the opposite side from her, but then she scooted over a little closer. He gulped again.

He made himself busy by unloading the food and drinks that they brought with them. She had surprised him by stopping at the honey tree that morning and bringing some fresh honey to spread on their poi rolls. It was always such fun for her to come up with treats for Gilligan, as he was so enthusiastic over food.

"MaryAnn, this looks great," he exclaimed, with his eyes bright. "You're such a good cook."

"Thank you, Gilligan. You know how much I enjoy making things for you," she said shyly, playing with the hem of her dress. She looked at him with her big, brown eyes, smiling.

"MaryAnn, can I ask you something?" he asked. She nodded, as she had just taken a bite of poi roll and honey. "I feel kind of silly asking this, but . . . are you – am I . . ." He sighed heavily. "Am I your boyfriend?"

"Um . . . well," she thought about it. "We do hang out a lot together." He nodded. "And sometimes, I kiss your cheek or hold your hand." He nodded again. "So, I guess . . . I'd _like_ to think of you as my boyfriend . . . is that all right?"

He thought about it for a minute. Then he shoved a chunk of banana in his mouth, and nodded. "Yeah, it's okay. I was just wondering." And he continued to enjoy the feast set before him.

MaryAnn chuckled, then she, too, continued to enjoy their lunch. Throughout the rest of their lunch, they made small talk – just chit-chat about nothing. Then, when they were done eating, MaryAnn started to pick up the food wrappings and cups, and packed them back into the basket.

When everything was picked up, Gilligan looked at her, then around at the blanket. "Do you want to go back, or stay up here for a while?"

"We can stay for a while, if you want," she said.

He laid back and hooked his fingers behind his head. "The clouds are pretty, today. That one looks like the Minnow," he said, pointing to a boat-shaped cloud.

MaryAnn laughed and lay back, too. "Yeah, it kind of does. How 'bout that one over there? What do you see?"

"An elephant riding a unicycle," he answered immediately. She burst out laughing. "No, no. I'm serious – look." He scooted over so his head was closer to hers. "See? Right there is the elephant's trunk pointing up, and right down there – see the wheel?"

She still laughed. "I don't see it. You're making that up."

He laughed, too. Then, he stopped laughing and looked at her seriously. He got up on one elbow.

"You're not going to give me a wet willie again, are you?" she asked, cautiously.

He grinned. "No, fooling around like that wouldn't be safe up here. Actually, I, uh . . . I was thinking of kissing you," he said, blushing crimson. "Would that be okay . . . you know, seeing that you think of me kind of like a boyfriend . . ." his voice trailed off.

She sat up, nodding. He sat a little closer to her. He was nervous, and he wasn't quite sure which way he should hold his head – to the left or the right. She chuckled, reached her hands up to each of his cheeks and held his head still. Then she tilted her head to the left, and he leaned down slowly. She closed her eyes and waited for his lips to touch hers.

When they did, she snaked her hands the rest of the way around his neck, then ran one hand through his hair. After a few moments, he reached his arm around her back and held her a little closer. The kiss deepened.

Gilligan felt like his insides were exploding with fireworks. His heart was pounding, and there was a warmth flowing through him like he had never felt before. Finally, he pulled back and looked at her cautiously.

She opened her eyes and smiled brightly at him. "I think you'll make a great boyfriend," she whispered.

He smiled bashfully. Then he looked back up at the clouds. "Oh look," he exclaimed. "There's a coconut cream pie," he said, pointing to a long, narrow cloud. There were actually little wisps of cloud rising up, that looked like the pie was steaming.

MaryAnn laughed, and threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. He stiffened for a second, before he looked at her, and relaxed. Then he put his arm around her shoulder, too.

They stayed up there for another half hour, finding the silliest things in the clouds and laughing uproariously at them.

Finally, MaryAnn looked at Gilligan, and took his hand in hers. "Gilligan," she said, suddenly all serious. "If you want me to bake you that pie, we have to head back."

"Okay, let's go!" He jumped up and pushed her off the blanket so that he could fold it. She lay on the moss, laughing. "Come on, MaryAnn, get up. We gotta get going." He grabbed her hands and pulled on her arms, trying to stand her up, but she was laughing too hard.

Finally, though, she got to her feet. He picked up the basket and then reached out with his other hand to hold hers, as they passed over the narrow passage. When they got back into the jungle, she expected him to let go of her hand as he usually did . . . but not this time.

He held her hand and swung their arms wildly. Every once in a while, he'd pull her frantically along, saying "Come on, we gotta hurry. You gotta make a pie!" and he'd get her laughing all over again.

They approached a fallen tree across the trail. Gilligan said, "You know, one of these days, I gotta come out here and chop this up. It would clear the trail and give me a good load of firewood. One of these days . . ."

He reached back to help MaryAnn over it. It was high, so she had to lift her leg up high over it, and held his hands for balance. It was tricky going, with that short dress on, and she was trying not to give Gilligan an "R" rated view. She looked up at him and saw that he was averting his eyes.

When she finally got over the log, he still held both her hands. When she glanced back up at him again, he was looking back at her. "Can I kiss you again?" he whispered.

She put on a serious face and answered, "But the pie . . ."

He actually thought about it for a minute, before grinning and saying, "Just a quick kiss, then."

It was an offer she couldn't refuse. She stood up on the tips of her toes and put her hands on his shoulders. He put his hands on her hips, and leaned down towards her. He closed his eyes and kissed her. Almost immediately, though, he straightened back up. "Okay, that's enough – come on. Letsgo-letsgo-letsgo." And he pulled at her hands again and was practically running.

"Gilligan, let go," she laughed. "I can't go that fast. Stop it." He was pulling, and she was struggling, fighting him.

Finally, he just scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. With her hanging practically upside-down, screaming at him and pounding at his back, he started to jog back to the compound.

When they finally stumbled into the compound, MaryAnn was kicking her feet and trying to squirm out of his grasp. He put her down carefully, and then fell to the ground, exhausted. "Wow. You look tiny, but you sure don't feel tiny."

"What?" she squawked. And she threw herself down at him and started tickling him.

"MaryAnn," he whined. "Cut it out. Stop-stop-stop." He was gasping for breath. He grabbed both her hands, and for a minute, she couldn't break free. He held them tight and brought his face close to hers. She stared into his eyes and prepared for a kiss. When he got right up close, he whispered, "Go make me a pie."

Later that evening, MaryAnn and Ginger had cleared the dishes off the table. Gilligan was watching MaryAnn with an expectant look on his face.

She laughed. "If you think I'm giving you any pie after you told me I was heavy, think again, Super-Gilligan." She set a huge coconut cream pie down on the table and handed Skipper a knife to cut it. Then she sat down next to Gilligan and tried to hold both his hands, so he couldn't get any. "No pie for you," she laughed.

With a determined look, Gilligan broke away from her and disappeared around the corner. When he ran back, he was wearing the blanket tied around his neck again. He was swinging his machete wildly, yelling "Don't worry, everybody. I'll save you! I will dispose of this dangerous pie. No, No! No need to thank me." And he jumped right over the table, amid yelling and hollering from the other castaways, grabbing the pie as he flew over the top. And Super-Gilligan disappeared into the jungle, clutching the "dangerous" pie, giggling like a mad-man.


	2. A Night With SuperGilligan

**CHAPTER 2**

**A NIGHT WITH SUPER-GILLIGAN**

Gilligan stood in the shadows of the jungle holding the pie. The others were all sitting around the table, arguing and yelling and gesturing wildly in the direction that he had run. He could see MaryAnn standing next to Skipper trying not to laugh.

"I say we track him down and take it back," Thurston Howell said, as he pounded his fist on the table.

"Well, if we had any chance of catching him, that might be a good idea," Skipper answered. "As it is, by the time we _did_ find him, the pie would be gone."

Gilligan skirted around the clearing, just inside the trees, staying in the shadows. He came out of the jungle behind his and Skipper's hut and walked around the corner, very nonchalantly holding the pie out in front of him.

"I was just kidding," he said, still giggling. "I wouldn't really eat it all by myself." As he walked towards them, the others started to panic. He was heading right towards a small pile of firewood that had been put out for the evening fire. There was a chorus of warnings.

"Gilligan, watch out."

"No, you knucklehead, watch your feet."

"Egads, boy, watch where you're going."

"Oh, Gilligaaaaaaan!"

"He's such a walking disaster."

"Oh dear boy, do watch your step."

With everybody shouting at the same time, Gilligan had no idea what they were trying to say. He hit the first small log, which of course, rolled under his foot. Then with one foot in the air, he started to tip backwards, joggling the pie.

Skipper jumped towards him and tried to catch the pie, succeeding only in hitting his hand against Gilligan's upraised foot, crushing any chance the boy had of regaining his balance. Backwards he went, landing flat, and they all helplessly watched as the pie twisted and spun in the air, then landed soundly on Gilligan's face with a soft squelch.

They groaned in unison.

Gilligan lifted his head and propped himself up on his elbows. Licking his lips and as much of his lower face as possible, he said, "Perfect, MaryAnn . . . as usual. Not _too_ coconutty, not _too_ sweet . . . just right." With a big grin, he reached up to his cheek, took a finger full of pie and put it in his mouth.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, Gilligan was on his way back to the clearing. He had been at the waterfall, shampooing the coconut pie out of his hair. It was a breezy evening and with a wet head, he was feeling chilled. Still wearing the checkered blanket as a superhero cape, he pulled it around his shoulders for warmth.<p>

It was just starting to get dark in the jungle, and he hadn't brought a torch. But as he ambled along, humming softly to himself, there was still enough light for him to spy a cluster of primrose-willow. They were pretty little flowers, soft yellow, with light green leaves. He reached over and picked a small bunch of them to give to MaryAnn. He continued up the path, humming and clutching the flowers, when he saw a torch coming up the path towards him.

"Helllooooo," he called out. "Who goes there?"

"Hi, Gilligan. It's just me," MaryAnn said in a rather sad voice.

"What's the matter?" he asked. He was close enough now to be in her little circle of light. She could see his dripping hair, the blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders and the flowers he was clutching. He held the flowers out to her. "Are you still sore at me for ruining the pie?"

"No," she answered. "I'm sad because I can't find my book." She took the flowers from his hand and instinctively smelled them.

"Do you mean that beat up old paperback that you've read six times?" he asked, as he reached his hand out to take the torch. "When was the last time you remember having it?"

"I know I had it at the beach yesterday. I thought I put it back in my basket when I carried my things to my hut, but I can't find it anywhere. I think maybe I dropped it."

"Well, I'll come search with you," he said, gallantly. "Are you cold? Do you want the blanket?"

MaryAnn smiled. "Thanks, but I'm all right. I have a sweater."

Gilligan looked at her in the flickering light. She had traded her little blue dress from the picnic earlier, to her jeans and bulky sweater. His heart fluttered a little at the sight of her.

"Come on," he said. "Let's start at the beach, where you were sitting."

MaryAnn smiled and took his hand. "Thank you, Gilligan." She reached up and kissed his cheek.

Gilligan grinned and blushed. Still holding her hand, he led the way down the path, back towards the beach.

They didn't talk much as they walked; they just listened to the night sounds of the jungle. At one point, something screeched so close to MaryAnn, that she practically climbed into Gilligan's arms. He pried her off and tried not to laugh.

When they got to the area of beach that MaryAnn had been sunbathing at the day before, they tried to use the light from the torch to see, but came up empty-handed.

"It's no use, MaryAnn," Gilligan said. "It's just too dark. I'll help you find it tomorrow, okay."

"Okay, I guess you're right. No reading for me tonight," she said, as she plopped herself down in the sand.

He sat next to her, holding the torch out in front of them. "Hey, do you want me to build a little fire? We could stay here on the beach for a while," he asked.

MaryAnn grinned at him and asked, "And then what would we do . . . just the two of us . . . out here on the beach . . . alone."

Gilligan shrugged. "I guess we could . . . uh . . . talk, maybe."

She giggled. "Okay, that sounds lovely. Come on, sailor man. I'll help you collect some driftwood." They had fun running up and down the beach in the moonlight, collecting wood and some rocks to make a ring.

The end result was a delightful little campfire, with the two lovebirds cuddled up next to each other, just listening to the surf and the jungle sounds.

After the picnic that day, and the walk back to camp stealing little kisses here and there, Gilligan was feeling brave. He was sitting rather close to MaryAnn, so he shyly put his arm gently around her shoulder. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see what her reaction was.

She immediately smiled at him and snuggled a little closer, laying her head on his shoulder. Gilligan smiled back, then he leaned his head against hers and let out a little sigh.

They stayed that way for over an hour, just listening to the night sounds and talking in whispers. Finally, when he noticed that MaryAnn's eyes were getting rather droopy, he kicked sand over the last of the embers and they slowly walked back to the clearing holding hands.

When they got to her door, Gilligan looked at her for a moment. Then he looked at the moon . . . the trees . . . the table . . . until MaryAnn finally giggled, took his face in her hands and kissed him goodnight.

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, Gilligan and MaryAnn started spending most of their evenings on one beach or another. They frequented different beaches to keep the others guessing; though they were fond of all their island family members, those evenings were just for them.<p>

Sometimes they talked as they sat by the fire, and sometimes, they just listened. When they did talk, their conversation often took them to Kansas, or maybe Pennsylvania – telling stories about their families and childhood adventures.

They were also becoming more intimate with each other, as Gilligan grew more comfortable with the idea of having a girlfriend who liked to kiss and hug.

One particular night found them on the most western stretch of beach. They had gotten there early to watch the sun set, and the view had been spectacular.

Now, several hours later, their fire was starting to die down.

Gilligan took a stick and poked the embers. "I'll miss the campfires," he said softly.

"What do you mean?" MaryAnn asked.

"Someday, we'll get rescued and go back home. When we do, we won't have campfires like this every night." He shrugged. "I'll miss them. I like the smell, the crackles, poking the embers when the fire dies down."

MaryAnn wrapped her arms around his and laid her head on his shoulder. "Do you really believe we'll get rescued, Gilligan?"

"Of course, we will," he said with confidence. "You can't give up hope. I think about it all the time. Don't you?"

MaryAnn shook her head sadly. "I try _not_ to think about it. Every time we think we're going to finally go home, it doesn't happen. It hurts too much to get your hopes up." Her eyes filled with tears, and though she tried hard to stop the flow, a few escaped and trickled down her cheeks.

"MaryAnn, don't cry," he said, reaching over to wipe her tears. "I know how much you miss your aunt and uncle and your cousins – how much you miss Kansas. I don't know how yet, but someday, I'll do it – I'll find a way to get you home."

"Gilligan, that's sweet. It really is, but how? How could you possibly get us rescued?"

"I've been thinking a lot about this, MaryAnn." He stopped and looked at her with shifty eyes. "Don't tell Skipper or Professor, though. They never think my ideas are good."

MaryAnn looked at him carefully. He was serious. He really had a plan. "What are you thinking of doing, Gilligan?"

"Well, look at the natives," he said. "They have everything on their islands that we do on ours, right? If they can make canoes that can travel across the ocean to different islands, we should be able to, too. Next time any of them land here, I'm going to examine their canoes. I have to find out how to make one."

"Oh Gilligan, that could be _dangerous_," MaryAnn exclaimed. "What if they caught you?"

"I'm pretty sneaky," he said, shaking his head. "I get away with all kinds of stuff with the Skipper. I bet I can get by them."

"So, say you build a canoe – then what? Are you just going to go off by yourself in it?"

He looked at her and scrunched up his face. "Don't say it like that. It's not like I'm leaving you here. I'm going to build a canoe and get out to the shipping lane and when I get picked up, I'll take them back here. I know the coordinates. I can do it."

MaryAnn stared into the fire. She took his stick and poked the logs. Looking back at Gilligan, she said, "Sounds like you've been giving this a lot of thought – like you've really come up with a plan."

"MaryAnn, before, it was just thoughts and dreams. But now – now that you're my girl, I . . . I want to be the one to get you rescued – I want to be your hero."

"Awww, Gilligan. I love that you want to rescue me, but I'd be so scared of losing you to the ocean. I'd be a wreck the whole time you were gone." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and snuggled into his neck.

"Well, it hasn't happened anyway. Not yet," he said, with a determined look. "Although, there is that big tree that's laying across the trail to our secret ledge. That would be a good one to use. I just have to figure out how to get it down to the beach."

MaryAnn hated the thought of him trying something like that on his own. In an effort to distract this line of thinking, she climbed into his lap to cuddle. He looked at her with wide eyes.

"Uh, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Cuddling," she answered. She still had her arms around him and her head on his shoulder. She snuggled in closer and kissed his neck.

"Oh," he said. He sat there awkwardly for a moment, before he decided to put his arms around her, too. When he did, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. He gulped.

"What's the matter? You seem nervous. Do you want me to move?" she asked, not making any motion to move at all. Instead, she snuggled in a little closer.

Gilligan looked at her and thought about it. "No, don't move," he said in a husky voice.

MaryAnn put her hand on his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. He met her eagerly and tightened his arms around her. Sitting there by the fire, in the moonlight, with the prettiest, sweetest girl he had ever met, William Gilligan got his first French kiss. He blinked and pulled away, looking at her.

She let him take his time processing what had just happened. She knew how scared he still was of girls, and one false move could send him racing through the jungle. Though they had been kissing each other a lot more lately, this night was different somehow. In the dark, on the beach with the fire, after that beautiful sunset . . . it was even more romantic and arousing.

It didn't take long for his lips to be searching for hers again. In the process of kissing and hugging and shifting positions, he suddenly found his hands on her hips, resting just under the hem of her sweater. He slid his hands up to her ribcage and felt her skin under his fingers, hot to his touch . . . steaming. Without meaning to, he let out a little moan.

This time, it was MaryAnn who pulled back. Neither of them moved – they just stared at each other, both with wide eyes . . . both breathing heavily.

MaryAnn knew that if she was careful and let him make the moves, there was a very strong possibility that she could lose her virginity on this beach tonight – that they both could. She also knew that she had been fantasizing about it for months. Slowly, she lifted her fingers, very subtly, and ran them through his hair on the back of his head.

She didn't smile; she didn't say anything. She just sat there with his hands on her skin, and her fingers tickling the back of his neck and playing with his hair.

Slowly . . . ever so slowly, Gilligan slid his hands up a little more. He realized that she wasn't even wearing a bra; if he slid his hands around to the front just a little . . . the thought of it was almost too much for him. He started to panic.

MaryAnn saw the shift in his eyes and knew that he was on the edge. If she lost him now, it could take weeks – even months – to get to this stage again. In those delicate moments, her mind frantically worked out the best course of action – should she let him run and hope that he'd come around again – or should she take the aggressive approach and take him past the point of no return.

Inwardly, she sighed. She knew that she couldn't force him into it. Something like that – something that big – he had to decide it was the right time for him. She trembled from arousal, as she laid her forehead against his. This time, she sighed out loud.

Gilligan sat there for another moment. His forehead was against hers . . . his hands on her back . . . frantically assessing the situation. He knew that she wanted to go further. He did, too . . . but did he dare to? He didn't want to stop – to chicken out. With a determined look, he made up his mind.

He tilted his head and kissed her again. With his hands still under her sweater, he tightened his hug, and MaryAnn knew then that he wouldn't run. Whatever dilemma ran through his mind, he had worked it out.

She shifted her position so that she was straddling his lap. He pulled her against him and moaned yet again. Lying back, he took her with him, and with her on top, their kiss steadfast, he finally slid his hands around to her breasts. His fingertips slid across her nipples, causing her to let out a little purring moan as she thrust her hips against his.

In a surprisingly graceful motion, he slid her down and around so that he was suddenly on top. As he did, his hands moved on their own accord and slid her sweater up. His lips found her nipple and he eagerly licked and sucked, while his fingers pinched and squeezed her other breast.

MaryAnn let out a primal growl as she reached down and undid his pants, releasing the beast in one swift motion. As she took his shaft in her hand, he sat back and slid her jeans down to her ankles.

Positioning himself back on top of her, now both of them practically nude, he paused. How he found the strength to, he did not know.

"I . . . I don't want to hurt you," he said, huskily.

"Don't stop, Gilligan. Please, don't stop now. I want you," she pleaded.

He looked into her eyes, and her hand gave him a squeeze. He shifted closer, and she guided him in.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, back at the clearing, Skipper and Professor were playing cribbage at the communal table. They had brought some of the torches close to provide light. Ginger sat next to the Professor urging him on and clapping for his good hands.<p>

The Howells had gone for an evening stroll, and they were just coming back to the huts.

"Captain," Mrs. Howell called out. "Could you please have Gilligan collect just a little more firewood. It's rather chilly this evening.

"GILLIGAN," Skipper yelled out. There was no answer. "GILLIGAN, where are you? GILLIGAN!" He looked around the clearing in annoyance. "Where the devil did he go?"

"I'm sure he and MaryAnn have gone off on one of their beach adventures," Professor said.

"Come to think of it," Ginger added, "I haven't seen MaryAnn since right after dinner." She couldn't keep the smirk from her face. When Professor looked over at her, she winked.

"But we ate dinner hours ago. They should have been back by now," Skipper said. He looked at Ginger and the expression on her face. "Although they have been getting in later and later." He thought a little harder, then he started to blush. "He couldn't, could he? He wouldn't, would he? He wouldn't know how!"

Ginger giggled. "They've been getting pretty cozy lately, if you hadn't noticed. He's got to figure it out sooner or later."

Skipper's mouth dropped open. He couldn't even imagine his little buddy . . . he closed his mouth. Then he stood up and started pacing, wringing his hat in his hands.

"We should go out looking for them. What if something happened; maybe they're in trouble somewhere. They . . . they could have gotten lost."

Professor stood up and tried to stop the Skipper from pacing. "Now, listen, Skipper," he said, calmly. "Firstly, the day Gilligan gets lost on this island is the day Albert Einstein shows up to rescue us. Secondly, they _are_ a couple now. It's bound to happen sooner or later . . . if, that is the case at all. Thirdly, well . . . you've got to let him grow up."

Ginger approached Skipper from the other side and put her hand on his arm. "Come on, let's finish the cribbage game. They're fine. Any minute now, they'll come strolling into the clearing, both blushing and knowing that we all know what they were up to." She looked at Professor and winked again.

* * *

><p>Back on the beach, Gilligan and MaryAnn lay in each other's arms on the checkered blanket. Despite the chilly evening, they were both coated in sweat and all covered in sand.<p>

"Ewww," MaryAnn squealed. "I have sand in places I didn't know I had."

Gilligan chuckled. "Let's put the fire out and go over to the hot tub. We can rinse the sand off in there." He was on his side facing her and his arm was draped across her waist.

She rolled over onto her side facing him and put her hand up on his chest, tickling the little tuft of hair he had there. "Remember a few weeks ago, when I told you that you'd make a great boyfriend?" she asked.

He looked down at her fingers then back at her face and nodded. "Uh-huh," he answered.

"I changed my mind," she said. When he looked at her with a panicked expression, she laughed.

"I upgraded you from 'great' to "Absolutely Fabulous," she said. Then she cuddled up against him and kissed him.

Gilligan wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hard. He still couldn't believe that this wonderful girl wanted him. He wasn't brilliant, but he was smart enough to know that she was a far better catch than he ever thought he'd get. If she wanted to hug and kiss and . . . stuff . . . well, then, he wouldn't let her down.

Feeling himself becoming quite aroused again, he pulled back from her. "Come on," he said. "Let's go to the hot tub." He reluctantly pulled his jeans and shirt on; then searched around in the dark for his hat. Then he turned around and MaryAnn was dressed, too. He took a thick stick to use for a torch, lit the end, and then they kicked sand on the fire and extinguished it.

Holding hands, they made their way through the jungle to the hot tub. The path was becoming worn, as the seven castaways all enjoyed the unexpected luxury that they had found. As Gilligan and MaryAnn strolled through the jungle, he found himself hoping that nobody else would be there.

Luck was with them, as they approached the little clearing; there was not a soul around. Gilligan took the torch and lit the three permanent torches that they had erected. By the time he was done, he turned around to where MaryAnn had been standing. He was greeted with the site of her clothing in a little pile. He glanced around and she was already in the water, vigorously rubbing the sand off of her limbs.

She looked up at him. "Aren't you coming in?" she asked.

He stood there, realizing that she was watching him. Despite the recent lovemaking, he was suddenly shy about undressing in front of her.

"Turn around," he said. Then he waited while she looked at him for a minute trying not to laugh, then she turned her back to him.

He slithered out of his clothes and slipped into the water. Then he, too, started vigorously washing the sand out of cracks and crevasses. It wasn't long before he overcame his shyness again, and let MaryAnn approach him. They giggled and kissed, as they helped each other wash the sand off.

MaryAnn found that the hardest part was getting the sand out of her hair. Without any shampoo to help wash it out, she kept dunking under and swishing her head around violently. She sprayed water all over, and Gilligan would laugh and shield his face.

When they both declared themselves clean again, they sat on the rocks set on the edge of the pool. With the water up to their chins, they were both warm and comfortable. Sitting side by side, they held hands. Gilligan laid his head back on the mossy banking and closed his eyes.

"You're not going to fall asleep on me again, are you?" MaryAnn asked. He could hear the smile on her lips.

"No, just enjoying the moment," he whispered.

"Well, enjoy this," she said, as she climbed back onto his lap.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Skipper awoke with a start. He immediately checked the hammock above him and found it empty.<p>

"Oh no," he muttered.

He didn't seem to care that it was only five o'clock. He ran out into the clearing and right through the door of the girls' hut.

"Did MaryAnn come back?" he hollered, causing Ginger to shriek and pull her blanket up to her chin.

Then he saw the other empty bed.

"They stayed out all night," he said, his face white. "Something bad had to have happened."

Ginger chuckled. "Or something amazing. Oooh, I'm positively shivering at the romance of it all."

Skipper looked at her and suddenly realized that he was standing in her hut and she was wearing only her orange blanket. He gasped and said, "I'm sorry, Ginger. I just . . . I'm worried about my little buddy." And he hurried back out to the table, bumping into the Professor.

Professor watched him back out of the girls' hut with raised eyebrows. When Skipper bumped into him and stepped on his toe, he grunted.

Ginger came out, still wrapped in her blanket, and the Howells came out of their hut, complaining about the morning chaos.

As it happened, the five of them were standing there, stammering and arguing (except for Ginger, who was giggling wildly), when Skipper spied a flash of red through the trees heading their way.

"GILLIGAN," he yelled. "Little buddy, are you okay? Where have you been?"

Gilligan and MaryAnn looked at each other and grimaced. They had been hoping to sneak into their bunks before the others woke up. They were both exhausted, having not slept a wink all night. After making love again in the hot tub, they climbed up a little hill and found a clearing overlooking the eastern beach. From there, they snacked on mangoes and pineapples as they watched the sun rise.

"We're fine, Skipper. Sorry to have worried you. We . . . uh . . . we just went out to watch the sunrise." He tried to look innocent, but didn't quite make it.

MaryAnn giggled when she saw the expression on Ginger's face. She reached up and kissed Gilligan's cheek, then walked over to her hut. "I'm not fixing breakfast this morning. Sorry, everybody, but I need to get a little sleep." She glanced at Gilligan with a huge smile.

He stood there blushing furiously. Then he tried to sidestep Skipper to get to their hut. "There should be enough water for washing up and breakfast," he said. "When I wake up, I'll go get some fish for later." When Skipper tried to block his way, Gilligan ducked under his arm. Rushing into the hut, he hollered over his shoulder, "Good night, everyone."

He slammed the door behind him, hung up his hat and kicked off his shoes. By that time, Skipper had recovered enough to follow him into the hut.

"Gilligan, Little Buddy, were you two really out all night?" he asked, still in a state of shock.

"Skipper," Gilligan answered, as he ushered Skipper back towards the door. "I'm really tired. We'll talk later. Right now, I just gotta get some sleep." With that, he gently pushed Skipper back out of the hut and shut the door again.

Climbing into his hammock, he grabbed his pillow in a hug and buried his face into it. With his eyes closed, he recalled the image of MaryAnn . . . lying on the beach with her sweater pulled up and her hands on him, pleading with him not to stop.

As he drifted off to sleep, a smile slowly spread across his face.


	3. Super-Gilligan to the Rescue

**CHAPTER 3**

**SUPER-GILLIGAN TO THE RESCUE**

_Gilligan sighed in a peaceful slumber. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and he had shed his usual red shirt. After his evening on the beach with MaryAnn, his socks and tennis shoes were filled with sand at the base of his hammock. _

_After sleeping for several hours, his eyes popped open, and he suddenly jumped up out of his hammock in one swift motion._

_What had woken him up, though? He felt like something wasn't right. He looked out his window and saw Skipper and Professor outside the girls' hut whispering frantically to Ginger and a sleepy-eyed MaryAnn. Both girls looked scared._

_As they conversed, Mr. and Mrs. Howell came out of their hut and joined them. Skipper looked over and saw that Gilligan was awake. Putting his finger up to his lips so that Gilligan didn't yell out, Skipper motioned for his first mate to join them._

_"What's up?" Gilligan asked in a loud whisper._

_"Shhhhhhh," Skipper scolded. "There are five kupa kai warriors heading this way."_

_Gilligan's eyes grew wide and the blood drained from his face. "They're coming for me," he whispered. "They're coming back for me."_

_Skipper shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. What would they want with . . ."_

_"Now wait a minute," Professor said, holding his hand out and interrupting Skipper. "He may be right. We need to quickly pack provisions and go hide out in the caves on the western side of the island."_

_"Oh, Professor," Mr. Howell whined. "Do you really think that's necessary?"_

_"It is absolutely necessary," he answered gravely. "Ginger and MaryAnn, go over to the supply hut and fill the travel baskets with as much food as you can. Mr. and Mrs. Howell, you get a few buckets of fresh water." He watched as the castaways listened to his instructions and headed off on their respective chores. _

_When they were out of sight, he turned back to Skipper and a very nervous first mate. "I don't want them to know how serious this is. Gilligan, it is __imperative__ that you remain out of their sight. Thinking that you are a reincarnated king, or even a descendant of a king, they may want to take you back to their island. Something tells me, though, that they wouldn't be inclined to assist in __our__ liberation."_

_"Yeah, they probably wouldn't rescue you, either," Gilligan said, shaking his head wisely._

_"Gilligan, you pinhead. That's what he just said," Skipper said, shaking his head._

_Gilligan looked at each of them and shrugged. _

_Professor rubbed his hand across his eyes. "Gilligan, get your duffel and fill it with all of the blankets and some pillows for the women. Grab as much as you can carry and lead the others to the cave. Skipper and I will be right behind you."_

_Gilligan left the two of them still talking and ran back to his hut. He started shoving blankets and pillows into his duffel bag. He scurried to each hut and grabbed all the blankets and pillows he could hold. Knowing how chilly the evenings had been getting, he grabbed MaryAnn's bulky sweater for her, too._

_By the time he got back to the clearing, the others were waiting for him with their loads. Gilligan saw Professor and Skipper talking in the supply hut. He stuck his head in the window and whispered loudly, "We're heading out now, see you at the caves."_

_They nodded back to him, and he turned to lead the others through the jungle. They moved quickly and quietly. Gilligan's heart was pounding, and he was sure that if there were any kupa kai around, they would hear it. Gilligan looked around cautiously. The jungle took on a shimmering quality. _

_Gilligan switched loads with Mrs. Howell, so that he could take the heavy buckets of water. He had the yoke over his shoulders and was moving so carefully that he didn't spill a drop._

_The jungle was deathly quiet, causing an eerie feeling. There were no birds chattering; no insects humming. The very air seemed charged with electricity. _

_Every time they rounded a bend, Gilligan was sure they would come face to face with fierce natives._

_It took the small group over a half hour to get to the caves. Once they got there, Gilligan carried the water in. He got a small torch and lit it, sticking it into a crevice in the wall._

_"Listen, MaryAnn, Ginger, you two help the Howells get everything set up here. I'm going to go back with the baskets and get more food. I'm hoping we're not up here too long, but it's better to be prepared." He picked the baskets up and tried his hardest to look brave and grown up, all the while feeling scared and small._

_"Oh Gilligan, please be careful," MaryAnn cried. She wrapped her arms around his skinny waist and hugged him tight, her tears soaking his shirt._

_He hugged her back and kissed the top of her head, trying not to notice Ginger's grin. Then Mrs. Howell and Ginger hugged him, too, imploring that he be cautious._

_Working his way cautiously back through the jungle, Gilligan picked some fruit along the way, all the while keeping a keen eye out and listening carefully for any intruders. When he heard someone coming towards him on the trail, he yelped and leaped over some bushes, hiding down low. Peeking through the branches, he saw two pairs of canvas sneakers shuffle by quietly._

_Getting up on his knees, he called out, "Hey!" _

_"Oomph," Skipper grunted, as Professor halted quickly, causing a collision. "Gilligan, you numbskull," he whispered. "What are you doing? You're supposed to be at the cave with the others."_

_"I was getting more food. See?" he said as he showed the basket to Skipper. It was then that he noticed they were carrying a variety of tools. "What are those for?" he asked, his face scrunched up._

_"We need whatever we can use to protect ourselves, Gilligan," Professor said. "Oh no," he continued, slapping his hand to his forehead. "I forgot the hatchet. We really could use that; I'm sure I left it right on the supply hut table."_

_"I'll get it, Professor," Gilligan offered. When Skipper started to protest, he argued, "Skipper, I'm the fastest. I'll be careful, don't worry." _

_He took off like a rocket before either of them could protest further. Racing through the jungle, he heard voices as he approached the clearing near the huts. Oh no, he thought. They're already here._

_Gilligan climbed a large koa tree on the outskirts of the clearing. He had often hidden in this tree when the others were angry at him; it was a great place to spy from. Peeking through the branches, he watched with dread as one of the natives came out of the supply hut holding the hatchet. _

_Swinging it wildly, the warrior looked fierce. He jabbered to his tribesmen, who were busy examining the contents of the other huts._

_Gilligan quietly scampered down the tree and ran back down the trail, glancing occasionally over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed. When he came to a fork in the trail, turning right toward the cave, he came to a sudden halt. He stopped so fast that he fell over._

_He got back up and brushed himself off. If he went left, it would take him down to the lagoon. He was willing to bet that there were a few dug-outs down there. Ducking behind a bush, he squatted down and scratched his head. He needed a minute to think._

_Gilligan thought hard. He thought so hard that his brain hurt. He was remembering his conversation with MaryAnn. "Was it really just last night?" he thought._

_He had told MaryAnn all about his big idea . . . the one where he sneaks by natives and examines their canoes to see how they are built. Then he would build one and use it to get to the shipping lane. _

_He was sure that once he got out there, he could bring back help._

_This was it. This was the best chance he was ever going to have to be a hero. He also knew that if he sat here and thought about it too much, he'd chicken out. Knowing that the others were safely hidden in the caves, he checked the trail one more time. Then he ran as fast as he had ever run before down to the lagoon. _

_By the time he got there, his lungs were bursting, and he was coated in sweat._

_He saw two canoes pulled up onto the beach. Falling to his knees in the sand, he examined the smaller canoe carefully. He noticed the carvings, how the middle was dug out and how the out-riggers were attached with strong vines._

_He thought that if he got that fallen tree from his secret trail down to the beach, he might be able to carve it out. But it could take weeks . . . months . . . maybe even a year. It would be next to impossible to do it in secret._

_Scratching his head again, he furrowed his brows. He wanted a canoe . . . here were two sitting right in front of him. If he hid one, the natives would know it. They wouldn't just leave it behind. What other choice did he have?_

_Suddenly, his eyes widened as an idea hit him. "I can do it," he thought. "I can. I know I can."_

_He checked the contents of the canoes and found some water skins in each of them. He grabbed the skins and ran over to the waterfall to fill them with the cold, fresh water. Then he grabbed a small bunch of bananas off of a nearby banana plant and threw them all into the smaller canoe._

_Taking one last look down the path, and then a quick, sad glance at the lagoon, he pushed off and got in, paddling for all he was worth._

_Gilligan paddled for what felt like hours. Every once in a while, he would glance back at the island he had called home. With a lump in his throat, he kept reminding himself why he was doing this. The others wanted to go home. They wanted to get rescued . . . especially MaryAnn._

_Keeping the sun to his left, just over his shoulder, he was sure that he was heading north-northwest. That would bring him into the shipping lane. How long would it take him? What about sleeping; where would he drift? _

_He paddled and paddled. The sun was setting behind him. It would be harder now, until the stars came out, but at least the sky was clear. _

_He drank his water sparingly and ate an occasional banana. He took a break from paddling. He thought that his arms would fall off. They had never been so sore. Still sitting on the little canoe seat, he let his eyes close for a few precious minutes._

_He jumped as he realized that he had almost fallen asleep. How long were his eyes closed? He took a deep breath and started to paddle again. Looking up at the sky, he saw that the stars had come out. He studied them. Steering by the stars had been one of the few things that he had excelled at in the Navy. Even some of the best sailors in his squadron were envious of his ability in that class._

_He quickly situated himself and continued on his north-northwest path. But something didn't feel right. He squinted his eyes into the darkness and peered cautiously around him. He sensed danger._

_Looking back over his shoulder, highlighted by the moon, he saw shadows in the distance behind him. Was it the kupa kai? _

_He paddled harder; he must keep pushing. He looked ahead. His heart jumped when he saw a twinkling light in the distance. _

_He paddled harder. Dig in . . . dig in . . . he chanted to himself._

_The waves gently jostled him as he glided across the water. The soft splash of the paddle comforted him. With each splash, he was closer to safety._

_Time stood still . . . time flew by. Gilligan paddled. He watched over his shoulder. They looked like they were gaining on him. But up ahead, he could now see the outline of a small vessel. He could hear their voices drifting across the water. There was music and laughing._

_He was spending a great amount of time watching behind him as he paddled. The natives were close enough now that he could make out their face paint practically glowing in the moonlight. It was terrifying._

_Turning his head forward again, he was stunned to find himself so close the small boat. Looking back and forth quickly, he assessed his situation. He was going to make it. He was. _

_He heard shouts. Some were coming from behind him as the angry natives realized that they were going to lose him; some were coming from the boat urging him onward. _

_He paddled harder. He could see the silhouette of a man scampering down the netting on the side of the boat, reaching a hand out to him. There was something in his hand. A red flag niggled in Gilligan's brain, but he paid it no heed. He was desperate to escape the clutches of the kupa kai. _

_He pulled the canoe alongside the boat and reached out for the man's hand. As their hands clasped, Gilligan looked up gratefully – only to find himself staring into the barrel of a flintlock pistol._

_Looking up at him in shock, Gilligan now saw the patch, the red kerchief and a ragged black vest over a white shirt. He looked backwards and the kupa kai were hovering just out of range, watching the proceedings carefully._

_Gilligan turned back to the pirate, ready to plead for his life, only to see the butt of the pistol rapidly approaching his face._

_Reeling from the impact, with his nose throbbing, Gilligan fell backwards in the canoe, falling into a net and getting tangled._

_He thrashed. He screamed. He could feel himself falling. He couldn't see anything. He just waited for the impact of the water._

Gilligan had the wind knocked out of him. How could he have hit solid ground? He thrashed some more and freed himself of the "net". Standing up, he realized that it was just his blanket. He had fallen off of his hammock.

Gasping for breath, coated in sweat, Gilligan slowly walked around the hut. Still barefoot and in his t-shirt, he reached up and ran his fingers through his sticky hair. He felt all clammy and his chest hurt.

Reaching up he gingerly touched his nose; it was fine. Just a dream . . . it was all just a dream.

He continued his slow shuffle around his hut while he got his breath back. He tossed his blanket up onto his hammock and reached up to the peg for his hat.

Pushing the door open, he staggered out into the bright afternoon sunlight, squinting. He had slept a good part of the day away. He could hear laughter coming from the garden area. Walking that way, through the trees, he could see MaryAnn on her knees, weeding, while Professor stood on the other side of the garden watering.

He rubbed his burning eyes hard as he made his way toward them. He reached into the large water barrel and scooped up a handful into his parched mouth. Letting it dribble down his chin a bit, he then splashed some more onto his face.

"Hi, Gilligan," MaryAnn said shyly. When he smiled at her, she blushed. He tried to think back to the beach last night, but his mind was frustratingly filled with images of kupa kai warriors and pirates.

He plopped down in the shade of the large koa tree – the very one that he climbed in his dream. He looked up into the branches as if he expected to see himself looking back down. He shook the image out of his head.

Looking back over his shoulder, he examined the clearing; again, half-expecting to see the kupa kai stealthily sneaking into their huts. When he turned back toward the garden, he jumped to see MaryAnn kneeling in front of him. She was watching him with a funny smile on her face.

"Are you all right?" she asked, reaching up and smoothing out his hair. "You're all sticky."

"Yeah," he said as he smiled at her. Taking in her milk chocolate eyes, her long wavy tresses, and the delightful little green halter top she had on, he smiled wider. "Yeah, I'm okay. I just had a weird dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

He looked over at Professor, who was watering and trying not to eavesdrop. Then looking back at MaryAnn, he shook his head. "No. Not right now. I'm going to go rinse off in the waterfall. Is it almost time to eat? I'm starving."

He could hear himself talking, but everything was still in such a dream-like state. He shook his head again to clear it. As he started to walk down the path toward the waterfall, he turned back to MaryAnn.

"Hey?" he called out. "MaryAnn, remember last night when I told you my plan about the canoe?"

"Uh-huh," she answered cautiously.

"I don't think it was such a good idea, after all." He grimaced, ran his fingers through his sticky hair again, and shuffled off down the path.

Gilligan stood under the waterfall letting the cold water wash over him. He had scrubbed and rinsed off, and was now just trying to clear his head. He still had that disoriented feeling that sometimes came with such a realistic dream.

When he swam back to the shore, he dried off and put his jeans back on. He rinsed out his clammy, sticky t-shirt and hung it over a branch to dry. He'd just have to go back to his hut and get his red shirt.

Grabbing a banana on his way back to camp, he peeled it and took a bite. He had a strong feeling of déjà vu – only he almost smelled the strong smell of the deep sea.

Later that evening, Gilligan sat at the fire, poking it with his hard koa staff and pushing the flaming logs around. He felt hands softly rub his shoulders. Looking upwards, MaryAnn was looking down at him. She kissed his nose.

"You've been acting funny all afternoon," she said softly as she sat down next to him. "Are you okay? Is it about last night?"

She bit her lip nervously.

"Last night?" he squeaked. "No. No - no nononono," He stammered. "Last night was . . . amazing. I just had a dream. It felt really real and it kind of threw me all loopy today."

"What was it about?" she asked, laying her head on his shoulder.

He sighed. "I tried to be a hero. I wanted to get you rescued . . . only it didn't work out so well." He hung his head. Even in his own dreams, he was a goof-up.

"Gilligan," she said sweetly. "You don't have to get me rescued to be a hero."

"I don't," he asked suspiciously.

"Nope. You're my hero every day . . . just by being here . . . just by being my best friend."

She softly kissed his lips and then laid her head back on his shoulder.

Gilligan smiled as he took his staff and poked the fire again. Then he leaned down and kissed the top of her head as he slid his arm around her shoulders.


End file.
